"Then I pray you let us adventure no farther," said Webbe, "for I, at least, have no great wish to be embraced by such arms. Let us turn back, Jacob."
"I would that we were once more aboard of the Revenge," muttered young Robin Redfern, who lay stretched upon the half-deck at Gilbert Oglander'a feet. "Who knows but that the Spaniards have already passed us, and been overmastered and taken home to England."
"There can be little harm in keeping on our present course until sunrise," said Jacob Hartop, not heeding the boy's remark. "Then, if we see no sign of the plate fleet, we can turn about and make a run for Flores."
"Ay," added Webbe, "it were even wise to turn at the first peep of dawn; for, mind you, it would go ill with us if we should find ourselves in the very midst of the galleons without a chance of escape."
And so they held on westward; and when darkness fell over the sea, Hartop and Gilbert curled themselves up under their rugs in the boat's well and went to sleep, leaving Timothy in charge of the tiller and Webbe and Robin on the watch forward.
It may be that the recent mention of the loss of his ship lingered in Jacob's mind as he fell asleep, for, as he dreamt, he saw himself once again upon her deck. A great galleon she was. He had won her in battle from the Spaniards, and as she was a better vessel than his own poor craft, he had converted her to his own use, and taking his own crew aboard of her had hoisted the red cross of St George and cruised with her as a buccaneer on the Spanish Main, conquering many another ship of Spain and transferring their treasures to his own hold, until the galleon was weighed down almost to her lower port-holes with the weight of gold that she carried. And then on a certain night when he was homeward bound he lay in his cabin asleep, and there had come to him one of the ship's boys to tell him that the galleon had sprung a leak and was sinking. He heard the boy calling him now as he lay in his dreams in the Revenge's boat, sailing on those same seas.
"Master Hartop!" the boy cried, laying his hand on the old buccaneer's breast. "Master Hartop! Quick! quick!"
Jacob turned over and sat up, and found himself not in his ship's cabin but in an open boat. And the boy who had called him was young Robin Redfern, who now stood over him with a face as white as the sea-foam, and with his hand that held the boat's lantern trembling as if with palsy.
"'Sdeath, boy!" cried Hartop. "What in the world hath happened?"